


Kidnapped

by EvilDime



Series: Kidnapping Tony [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Tony Stark, Consensual Kink, Dominance, Foot Fetish, Gangbang, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Humiliation, Identity Porn, Kidnapping, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sarcasm, Self Confidence Issues, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDime/pseuds/EvilDime
Summary: Not NOW!was the foremost thought on Tony's mind as the arm came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso to pull him off his feet.I'm supposed to meet Steve for a weekend of one-on-one training!





	Kidnapped

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All I Want For Christmas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125816) by [Wordsplat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsplat/pseuds/Wordsplat). 



> So I was reading Wordsplat's "All I Want For Christmas" the other day and laughed at Tony's guess that Steve was planning to 'drag him off into the woods to make him his sex slave' and I just thought someone should write that. :P Since Jaune_Chat forever scared me off of noncon between these two, this fic here is as consensual as I am capable of making it - meaning it looks pretty worrisome on the surface, but consent has actually been given in advance, off-stage. (It's still trash, though.)
> 
> 'Captain America' looks fairly ooc in this one, he's a tough bastard happy to humiliate and abuse his kidnapped victim.  
> This is very different in style from wordsplat's beautiful fics. Please mind the tags. You have been warned. ; )
> 
> Beta: PhobiaRice. Thank you so much for the valuable input!

_Not NOW!_ was the foremost thought on Tony's mind as the arm  came out of nowhere  and wrapped around his torso  to pull him off his feet.  _I'm supposed to meet Steve for a weekend of one-on-one training!_

He had been kidnapped a number of times, and he had escaped under his own power often enough to believe in his own abilities. It was still a harrowing experience every time, unpleasant to say the least. More than that, though, he cursed fate for letting this happen _now_ when he'd been looking forward to the weekend like a little child waiting for Christmas.

Also, he was in his own damn tower, the most secure place on earth, with Jarvis keeping watch and the Avengers spread out all over the top floors. How was this even possible?

Of course, he had just left early - fled, really - from a tedious evening meeting on one of the publicly accessible lower floors, so the Avengers living upstairs didn't do him much good. Where was Jarvis, though? He controlled the whole tower, not just the residential floors.

He wanted to call out to Jarvis, but a second hand came up to cover his mouth right when he started to open it. _"Silence,"_ a rough voice hissed in his ear. To his immense horror, he felt the other hand not just tie up his wrists, but also take away his watch, dumping it in a nearby trash can. He was naked now, his armor and means of communication stripped away. To make things worse, a blindfold was tied around his head next. His heart started pounding like mad.

_"Anthony_ _Ned_ _Stark,"_ the voice whispered in his ear, _"calm down._ _And don't you dare harm_ _any of my associates."_

Tony froze.

That name. Only his best friends knew he preferred Eddard over Edward, nerd that he was; and only one of them would pass that name on to a potential kidnapper.

_Her._

As his kidnapper lifted him bodily off his feet - curse his small stature! - and began to carry him down the soundproofed service stairwell in a fireman's carry, taking the hand off his mouth to get a better grip, Tony forced himself to take a deep breath in and release it very slowly. It had been several months ago. He needed to focus on the exact words. Finally, he thought he got it.

"Is this a kidnapping?" he asked, awaiting the answer with baited breath.

Tension seemed to seep out of his kidnapper's frame at the words. _"You are not so wet behind the ears as to question this,"_ came the reply. Still whispered, oddly enough; but the words were the correct ones.

"Believe me, I am entirely green," he said whole-heartedly, slumping over the man's back as the thought that this was really happening penetrated through the pounding in his ears.

He thought he heard a muffled chuckle, but then the man reached up a hand to plug something into his ears and he heard no more. He was left with only the sensation of the man's bouncing steps rocking underneath his body, then the cool, fume-colored air of the parking garage. He felt more than heard the heavy fire door swing shut behind them.

"If you're into car porn, all you had to do is ask. I'll happily show off my private collection to you and maybe even take you for a - urgh."

Suddenly, there were hands on him. Not just one pair, but at least three different people, maybe more, each grabbing hold of some part of his body, lifting him off his initial kidnapper and maneuvering him into the back of a car like cannibals towing their prey to the bonfire in the village center. He was strapped in tight on what felt like a slim, hard mattress or maybe a gurney, something rubbery was affixed over his mouth; he tested his bonds, heat exploding in his stomach at the discovery that he was trapped without any hope of escape. And all the while, the many hands never left him.

They drove out of the garage on hot wheels, slowing down once they hit traffic and merging with the endless stream of New York's irascible motorists. Only moments later, the car lurched forward and even through his amazingly efficient earplugs, Tony could make out the screeching tones of a siren.

_Brilliant,_ he thought  with grudging admiration. Somehow, his kidnappers had acquired an ambulance. No-one would question  such a vehicle hurriedly fleeing the scene,  no-one  would slow them down or, heaven forbid, want to look inside.  And even if they did, people would assume he was strapped down for a good reason, and he was just willing to bet  the thing over his mouth would for all intents and purposes look like an innocuous oxygen mask. Hell, maybe it _was._ He didn't know how they would explain the blindfold, but he was sure there were plenty of  plausible medical reasons. This looked foolproof. If not for Jarvis, this kidnapping might actually  pan out. And, well, Jarvis had not interfered, so presumably they had found a way to circumvent him. 

Of course,  _she_ might easily have gotten Jarvis to cooperate,  which seemed like cheating. But the entire setup was  on the whole so very well  planned and executed that he could hardly begrudge her that. Instead, he stopped  analyzing the logistics and  dedicated his full attention  to the scene. 

He was strapped down on a gurney inside an illegal ambulance being carted off to god only knew where. At least one of his kidnappers was tall and strong enough to carry all of Tony's 225 pounds of skin and muscle; the man's strength was impressive. He had no way to call for help, presumably nobody but _her_ knew where he was or that he  even wasn't in his workshop on another five-day science bender.

Maybe Pepper was right when told him those bad for him. 

He spared a short, mournful thought for Steve, but assumed that _she_ would make  up some excuse for the entirely too perfect man to keep him from searching for Tony. The reasons she gave were sure to be entirely innocuous, never even hinting at where Tony actually was, what he was doing, or rather: what was about to be done to him. For a brief moment, Tony wondered what Steve would think if he knew. He blushed, pushing away the thought. This was precisely why he had never even considered putting the moves on the man. Captain America was from the forties, for fuck's sake; he sure as hell wouldn't lower himself to Tony's level of depravity. Captain America was all kittens and rainbows and apple pie, and they had a snowball's chance in hell of working out as a couple. 

But never mind that now. One of the hands had just begun to rub circles  on his chest, right above where the  arc  reactor used to be, and even though that danger was no longer a concern, the gesture still got him focused like nothing else.  Then one finger brushed a nipple. 

"Unh," he exhaled sharply. The mask muffled his voice and the earplugs kept  it from being processed  the usual way; but his bones still carried the vibration to his ear drums and he could make a good guess what it had sounded like to the people around him. 

Startled. And needy. 

Said people were surely looking down at him  seeing  Tony as a prize to be shared among them, to be used for their own  fun,  to be humiliated, debased, passed around for their pleasure. Tony expected nothing less of _her._

Another  set of fingers began rubbing his other nipple, rolling it in slow contemplation before getting a good grip and pinching.  Tony's back arched off the gurney as the pain shot through him.  "Aargh!"

Someone patted his cheek like one would pat a pouting child. Tony could easily imagine the condescending words that went with it. 

_There, there; don't fret, little boy. It's gonna be alright._

He felt his cheeks heat with a mixture of anger and shame.

The siren cut off; they must have left the major traffic lines behind. To Tony's surprise, someone extracted the plugs from his ears soon after. Immediately, the voices of at least four different men assaulted his ears, all close by, sounding excited and eager and rough. The sound shot through him like a lightning bolt.

"Time for the transfer," one of them proclaimed. The car slowed down and the voices abruptly cut off, nervous tension gripping them all. Tony heard the doors of the ambulance open, then the cool late summer evening breeze hit the bits of his face that were not covered by the mask. The gurney was pushed out, hurried steps sounding on concrete as he was ferried over to what he supposed must be an elevator; it closed with a soft _ping._ No one spoke as they headed to whatever their goal was.

Wind again, stronger this time. Then some noises that had his eyelids twitching behind his blindfold, eyes wanting to grow big and round in wonder. Was that really...? He hesitated a moment longer, not quite believing the clues his ears brought to him, but there was really no arguing with the facts: His gurney was loaded onto a helicopter which immediately took off.

Huh.

These guys were even more professional than he had previously assumed. Someone had put serious planning and money into this kidnapping.

He was going to owe some large favors once this was all over.

While they were in the air, most of his kidnappers kept their hands to themselves. Tony wondered if any of them had ever been on a helicopter before; he briefly amused himself with the image of half a dozen guys in kevlar and balaclavas pressing their noses to the glass like a gaggle of school girls. Of course, they might also just be busy doing whatever else kidnappers did while idle.

One guy, however, still had his large hand up Tony's shirt, slowly tracing sharp fingernails over Tony's chest down to his navel and brushing against the top of his jeans every now and then. The guy's actions soon drove all curiosity about the rest of them out of Tony's mind, leaving behind only the sensation of the rough caress and all the further intimacies it hinted at.

Tony was... tense... the entire flight and was very, very grateful when they landed. Now things could move along, and hopefully he would be sprung from his restraints sooner rather than later.

Indeed, the moment they touched down, his arms and legs were released from the straps, the oxygen mask removed and even the blindfold was discarded. He blinked. Night had fallen during their journey. The helicopter's lights and four lamps marking the landing pad illuminated nothing but dark, looming trees all around them. Tony wasn't certain if there was a true forest in all of New York, much less one lonely enough that they could afford to remove his gag.

How far had they flown?

Well. Unless, of course, this wasn't as remote as he assumed. One way to find out. Without a single glance to give himself away, Tony slowly pulled air into his lungs, then opened his lips to give the loudest shout for help he had ever mustered. "H-"

A hand slammed down between his shoulder blades, knocking the wind out of him and propelling him down onto his knees. He hit the dirt with a dull thud, gasping and clutching at his aching chest. Fuck, that had been unexpected.

"Motherf-"

_"Shut the fuck up."_ The leader's voice - Tony thought the tall, strong guy must be the leader, anyway - hissed from behind him.  The sound sent shivers down Tony's spine and the ache in his upper back made him very reluctant to try speaking again. Such strength, fucking hell. 

Still. Ordering Tony Stark to shut up? That wasn't gonna fly.  “Yeah, no,” he said with false bravado. “I don't think I will. I like talking, you know?” The unspoken challenge hung heavy between them in the cool night air and Tony inwardly cringed at his own foolish, incessant need to poke and prod and make himself a nuisance. This wasn't really the kind of situation where this was a helpful trait. 

Not surprisingly, he didn't have to wait long for the echo.

A boot connected with the already sore spot on his back, pushing him slowly, yet inexorably down towards the ground.

“Oi,” Tony protested, “I'm not a dog or something! Men aren't meant to crawl.”

The boot didn't let up until he was firmly pressed into the dirt.  _“But you are,”_ the leader hissed at him. It wasn't just the cool breeze making Tony shiver. 

One of the other men stepped in front of Tony, planting his scuff-marked working boots right in front of Tony's eyes. “Let's make one thing clear,” he stated much too gleefully. “As long as you are our guest, you are not  a  man. You are, for all intents and purposes, our bitch. We will expect you to sit, to shut up, or even to fetch as ordered. If you insist on being a naughty dog, we will rub your nose in it until you learn better.” Following actions to words, he bent down to bury his hands in Tony's hair and pushed his face roughly into the  loose dirt, moving his head to and fro until he had dirt in his mouth, up his nostrils and clotted in his eyelashes. 

When the hand let up, Tony came up spluttering and with watering eyes. Breathing had been an issue and he dragged in hasty, frantic gulps of fresh air.

“Now,” the man in front of him said calmly, but still sounding so damned pleased with himself, “will you be a good boy and shut up?”

Tony wanted to growl “Make me”, but he knew they would do just that and right now he was still struggling to get his breath to even out. He didn't need another encounter with the dirt. So for once he swallowed his pride, pursed his lips and nodded.

“ _Say it,”_ the leader hissed from behind him. 

Tony felt shame burning him up from inside at the order. He wouldn't say that. Although… “I will shut up,” he said, half-hoping he'd get away with it, and half…

Judging by the increased pressure of the boot on his back, this time it was the leader's hand clenching in his hair and rubbing his face in the dirt.  _“Not good enough,”_ he hissed. Tony thought it sounded angry and a shudder went through his entire body at the tone, even though with a mere hiss, he couldn't be sure. 

He was kissing the dirt longer this time and quite apart from the breathing issues  and the pain in his nose as it rubbed against leaves and pebbles and  a  spot of  hard, packed dirt, he felt incredibly humiliated. When he was next let up, the leader bent down right next to his ear and breathed: “ _You know what I want to hear. Say it!”_

Everything in Tony rebelled against the idea, but he forced himself to respond. Between one needy breath of air and the next, he forced out the words: “I will be a...” Gods, this was hard! “…a _good boy.”_ He wanted to gag, but the need to draw more air was stronger. 

“ _That's right,”_ the leader whispered, and did he sound happy? The hand came back to his head and Tony tensed, but this time it merely ruffled his hair, petting him a few times. _“Good boy.”_

Tony felt a  confusing mix of revulsion and pride. 

The boot vanished from his back at long last and the man in front of him lifted him back up into a kneeling position before stepping back.

No-one said anything for one long moment. Tony hesitantly raised his eyes.  The leader still stood behind him, but everyone else was arrayed in a  semicircle in front of him, the shapes of his kidnappers outlined harshly against the light from the helicopter.  There were seven of them, all  presumably male,  their faces pitch black holes in the glaring light. 

Suddenly, two hands came down around his sides and took hold of his shirt. A  ripping sound split the air, then his chest lay  bared to  the  pack's eyes. 

One of the men stepped forward, carrying something in his hand Tony couldn't make out against the light. His eyes teared up. 

"Well,  ain't this a lovely canvas," the man said, not whispering at all.  Raising his hand a little in front of his body, he tapped his implement against Tony's chin. It was a riding crop. 

Heat gathered anew in Tony's belly, traveling outward from there up into his chest and  also  down  below.  _Fuu-uck._

"Look, I hate to tell you this, but that's not a brush," Tony tried. "The best you can hope to achieve with that is some very modern crime against art."

The man snickered as he raised the whip. "I was thinking more of a homage to Bosch."

"Robert Bosch?" Tony tried feebly.

"Hieronymus," the man answered with audible satisfaction.

Tony felt his breath accelerate. The logical thing to do now would be to try and get away from this man and his weapon, to stand up and -

And what? Where could he go, with eight people hunting him, when he had nothing going for him, no suit, no backup, not even a shirt? And not the slightest idea where he was. Still, he strongly felt he should not just take this lying down - well, kneeling, anyway. There was no way Tony Stark gave up without a fight. Just sitting there meekly and letting this man hit him was not something he could see himself doing, ever.

With a grunt of effort, he jumped to his feet.

Sadly, that was as far as he got before strong hands caught his shoulders in a vise-like grip, preventing any attempts at escape and probably painting some nice, dark bruises on his upper arms. The hands then slowly yet inexorably pushed him back down until his knees folded and he crashed back down to the ground.

"Got quite a bit of fight in him, doesn't he?" the man in front of him said. "Like a Staffordshire Terrier."

Tony couldn't help it, there was just no world in which he could pass up an opening like that. With a growl like a feral dog, he sank his teeth into the man's leg.

The man yelped and jumped back. Tony snarled at him, dark humor dancing in his eyes.

Another man glanced over Tony's shoulder, presumably at the leader standing behind him. "Well, we were promised an interesting guest," he said with an audible smirk. “And it looks like he has now actually earned this.” There was some chuckling from the men surrounding them. Then, two hands grabbed his wrists and forced them behind his back where they were transferred into a single, large hand. The other hand, now free, took hold of his hair yet again, forcing his head back to bare his throat. _"Behave, now,"_ the voice whispered.

Tony squinted up into the face of the man with the riding crop,  still unable to make out anything but his silhouette.  Then he felt something cold and sleek touch against his left nipple. His breath hitched.  He didn't see much, but he imagined he could actually  _feel_ the other man's grin.  The crop withdrew and came back down with an audible slap.

"Ah!" Tony tried not to scream out loud, he knew he wouldn't like the consequences; but a single, startled shout escaped him anyway at  the furiously blossoming pain of  that first hit.  Gritting his teeth despite the awkward angle of his head, he resolved to do better. 

And paint over his insecurity with sarcasm, of course. "That's not going to be Bosch," he commented, trying for a blasé tone despite the pain. "With those broad strokes, it'll be Miró at best."

Tony wondered if he was the only one who thought Miró's paintings looked disgustingly childish and cheerful when the man answered with: "Well I do aim to create somethin' we'll all be happy to look at."

So that was that. Tony had been kidnapped by art connoisseurs. "How is this my life?" he mumbled in disbelief.

The man just chuckled and started tapping the crop all over Tony's chest with steadily increasing  force.  Tony writhed in place as much as the hands in his hair  and  around his wrists would allow. His hips moved to and fro, back arching and shuddering at the increasing  strength behind each hit.

Between one hit and the next, he suddenly became aware that the other men were moving. While they had been a good ten to fifteen feet from Tony when he first dropped to his knees, they were now nearly close enough to touch.

"Let's see a bit more," one of them demanded  with a rumbling, low voice.  "I wanna know what we got ourselves here."

Before Tony had a chance to protest - not that it would have done him much good, he was sure - the strong man behind him was pulling him up to his feet, fiddling with Tony's belt buckle with one hand even as he was hauling him up with the other. Tony tried to kick his feet, only to have the man in front of him step on his toes, trapping them. The crop was slowly tapped against his left cheek. "Be good now, or you'll get this beauty here to the face," the man threatened. With a step to the side, he made room for another man to come forward and pull down Tony's jeans with eager, rough hands. 

The cool night air hitting Tony was an enormous shock to his system. Fuck, that  asshole had pulled his briefs down right along  with  the jeans!  Tony's hands twitched in a reflex to cover himself, but were foiled by the leader's large, strong hands capturing them again and raising them above his head.  _"Hold still, bitch!"_ he was roughly ordered. 

Tony barely noticed the pants being cut off his legs, annihilating the need for him to lift his feet and step out of them - the second man way _also_ standing on Tony's shoes. His breath went fast and shallow, adrenaline pumping through every vein in his body. He felt the leader take a step back, releasing his hair and arms, but ordering him to keep his hands in the air; then the other man was done with his pants and retreated as well, leaving Tony wearing nothing but his shoes while standing alone amidst a narrow circle of fully dressed men. Tony couldn't actually make out their expressions, but he felt like every one of them was outright leering at him.

"Fuck," Tony whispered, shivering from his head to his toes. "Oh fuck me."

He could easily hear the smirks in their voices as several men answered simultaneously with some variant or other of "That's the idea."

He gulped. "I didn't know Bosch was trending on pinterest."

From somewhere behind him, a foot came pushing against Tony's left ankle, _"Spread 'em,_ _sucker."_ Tony obeyed, his body's tension rising  with every second that he was on display. He thought he might look like a deer in headlights, but he felt more like a hare faced with a pack of hungry, wild wolves. 

And like a hare, he bolted. 

For a moment, the men seemed frozen in shock.  They had not expected this, which was really the only reason why he  managed to  push one of them aside and force his way  out of the circle, with eight men just watching on incredulously.  Then, the  noises of his own two feet crashing through the underbrush w ere joined by the sounds of a dozen more, overlaid by curses, angry shouts and, oddly, laughter.  "Go get 'em, boys!" a voice shouted, and suddenly the mood shifted.  What had seemed like a daring escape was now revealed to Tony as merely one more activity in a fun-filled evening for his captors.  They went  after him  with  enthusiasm, jeering and shouting and clapping their hands as though  he was a  wild boar they were driving. 

Well. He _was_ their prey. 

His own labored breathing let him know he should exercise more and drink less coffee, just as Pepper had always told him. Hindsight was always 20/20, wasn't it?

His feet got tangled in vines hidden from his eyes by the pitch black under the canopy of the trees, he nearly fell numerous times and scratched his arms and legs against low-hanging branches and the occasional tree trunk that turned out to be closer than expected.  Cursing and gasping, he still doggedly pushed on.  If they wanted him, they could damn well come and get him!

And then they did.

A hand came out of nowhere, snatching his left arm and hauling him off-balance. At the same time, h is feet finally hit a vine they couldn't  brute-force their way through and Tony fell with a yelp. A moment later, they were upon him.  Knees hit the dirt to his right, hands pushed against his shoulder to turn him onto his back.  A branch was digging into his lower back  amongst the old leaves and dirt.  "You seeing stars there, buddy?" the man asked, not unkindly. 

"Yeah," Tony said, dazed. "Lovely, green stars."

"That's the spirit!" a second voice chimed in,  and suddenly there was a weight on his legs and a hand groping him.  Tony hissed like an offended cat, but made no move to defend himself.  He had tried; he had failed.  Right now, he did not have the energy for another attempt. 

Of course, then that hand skipped lower and started brushing against his entrance, and Tony just couldn't - "Hands off!" he barked, sitting up and shoving the man back with as much force as he could muster without his repulsors. It wasn't very much.  The man floundered for a second or two, then came right back at him. By now, several more men had homed in on their position,  no doubt  guided by their voices, and one of them  grabbed Tony's wrists. He was pinned down  harshly, and any thought of defending himself died there and then.  He slumped in defeat. 

_Resistance is futile,_ some deranged part of his brain supplied. He suppressed a mad chuckle. 

"That's a good boy," the man holding his wrists said, leaning forward to increase the pressure even as he spoke; apparently, he wasn't dumb enough to loosen his hold just because it looked like Tony had given up. 

Tony huffed out a defeated breath and mumbled "Good boy my ass," eliciting a few sniggers as more hands came to grasp both of his legs, separately pinning his upper and lower legs in place. He was fully immobilized.

The first man resumed his fondling of Tony's hole with one hand, slipping the other up towards Tony's face. "Suck 'em, and don't you dare bite!"  Two fingers pushed  against his mouth.  Tony kept his teeth clenched tight out of pure stubbornness, but already another hand found his chin and  a  relentless  thumb  and forefinger pushed into his cheeks to force his jaws open.  Tony gave a pained gasp and the fingers slipped in. 

They rooted around in his mouth, touching everything,  stretching his lips this way and that and making him gag when they pushed further back.  It was humiliating and a bit painful and Tony  finally gave in and did what they wanted, his tongue laving the intruding digits,  coating them in his spittle as best he could. 

Once again, he earned himself a pat on the cheek as the fingers withdrew. "'atta boy."

He growled. Or at least he tried to, but there were still fingers digging painfully into his cheeks; another hand had taken up residence right next to his cock, stroking the tender skin in the crease between his upper thigh and his hip. His intended growl came out as more of a confused little whine.

Then the first wet finger poked inside him.

It was painful; spit wasn't the best of lubricants. Tony felt his thighs tremble, felt his entire body focus on that one point of contact. Slowly, painfully, the finger slipped in, then out again; in; and out.

Slapping noises sounded to his left, one of the guys seemed to be getting his rocks off. Tony wondered what exactly the man was jerking it to; he himself could barely see his own legs, much less what the man was doing to him. But apparently, that was no deterrent for this bunch. They seemed hell-bent on taking him out here on the cold, hard dirt. The finger once more dragged painfully out of his ass.

"Fucking perverts," Tony mumbled. There wasn't really enough light to make out anyone's faces, but Tony was sure all the same that the man fingering him leered in response.

Would this be all the preparation he got? Would they fuck him like this, with only spit for lube and a dead branch digging into his back? Shadowy silhouettes in the darkness underneath the trees swallowing up the light of the stars. He had never quite imagined this, and it could have sounded poetic except for how it wasn't. He'd said it before, and it was still totally true: He was so, so fucked.

Maybe the man to his left was thinking along similar lines; an obscene groan sounded, then Tony felt warm jizz splashing against his stomach. "Unh," he made, writhing against the hands holding his arms and legs in place. There was no give.

Trying to distract himself from the sticky mess on his belly, Tony once again deployed his sarcasm. "I never thought the joke about blond men was true, but really, your aim -"

A piercing whistle shattered the silent night.

"Right," one of the men said dryly.

The finger left Tony's ass and the men all got up, pulling Tony to his feet with them. Two men took one arm each, and he had the sense that there was a man walking right in front of him and one behind him, insuring he wouldn't escape again.

It was only now Tony noticed, _really_ noticed, that the forest had gotten even darker since he entered it. The helicopter must have switched off the lights or maybe even left while he was focused on other things. The lamps of the landing pad were still glowing, though, providing a clear beacon for their return. It had seemed to Tony that he'd run for several minutes, but it took them only a few short moments to get back to the clearing, which was indeed lacking a helicopter. In front of the landing field, the broad outline of the leader awaited them, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently. A smaller man stood beside him. Everyone else had apparently hunted Tony.

"Sorry," the man who had held Tony's wrists said, "we got a bit carried away."

The leader grunted, extending a hand to swipe some come off of Tony's stomach. He seemed to consider it for a moment, then wiped it off - on Tony. Tony's face scrunched up, eyes and mouth closing tight to avoid getting any of the stuff in them as the man dragged the spunk-covered hand over his cheeks and chin, deliberately rubbing it in. This was... this was...

Before he could find words to describe the experience, he was yet again pushed down to his knees. Tony feared he'd be overly familiar with that position before the night was through. He yelped in surprise when rough hands grasped his ankles, but then just resigned himself to losing his shoes and socks. From a strategic point of view, it made sense. If he'd still had any inclination to run, this would have put a nice spanner in the works. Not that Tony would have tried running again anytime soon as it was.

He managed not to yelp as another hand came down right beside his face, holding something that -

The collar was pulled tight around his throat before Tony really knew what was happening to him. He was still trying to make up his mind if he should check whether there was a lock or not – he hadn't heard any clicking noise – when there was a sharp tug on the collar.

He was being made to crawl on a leash, like a fucking dog.

Just as they had said.

_Fuck._

Tony dealt with the humiliation the way he always did when he was out of his depth. He piled on the sarcasm. "Are you sure you picked up the right target?" he heard himself say before he'd made the conscious decision to speak. "I mean, if you were looking to get a dog - I'm not into zoophilia myself, but I won't judge - maybe you should have tried the pet shop a few doors down from the-"

A harsh tug on the leash silenced Tony. He made a strangled noise, then hurried to keep up, the brisk pace forcing him to put his concentration into picking his way in the dark across the uneven ground.

The broad-shouldered man led the way into the trees on the opposite side of the clearing and Tony saw that he was the one holding his leash. Once past the first trees, Tony realized there was a well-worn dirt track on this side, quite a lot easier to tread than his earlier rampage through brambles and vines. It was a blessing for his bare hands and knees.

Then they broke out of the trees once more into another clearing. This one held a cozy little hut, warm light spilling out through the windows and painting shadows on the grass. Tony blinked. The leader's silhouette really looked familiar in this light, with the broad shoulders and narrow waist. Quite a bit like... Steve, actually. He snorted at his own observation. Of course he did.

You saw what you wanted to see, after all; and hadn't he even joked about this? _She_ was way too observant for anyone's good, he decided. He had no idea how she had managed to find such a convincing look-alike, but damned if that wasn't a fine specimen.

Shaking his head a bit at his own meandering thoughts, Tony allowed the men to lead him into the hut's main room without a fight. Once inside, he was made to sit down on the floor. Then they handcuffed him to the radiator.

Classic.

Maybe it was clichéd, and maybe he should feel embarrassed, but all Tony really felt was a bright, burning need. This was _exactly_ what he had described way back when, and she had followed his words to the letter.

When the men actually sat down at the table to gamble over first shot, Tony was so excited he nearly passed out.

"Won't you join us, Cap?" one of the men called.

Tony's head whipped around - and his mouth dropped open in bafflement. There stood the muscle-packed leader, dressed in Captain America's uniform and wearing Steve's face. _Literally_ wearing it. It was one of those rubber masks you could get for a few dollars on Halloween. Really cheap, and really cheap-looking; but also very much _Steve's face._

Tony closed his mouth with a snap and suppressed a chuckle. Of course the sexy leader of his kidnappers was an obviously fake, but extremely fit Captain America. _Of course_ she would not only give him some eye candy to feed his fantasies, but mock him for them at the same time. She wouldn't be who she was if she didn't.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered how she might have gotten Steve to hand over his uniform to her; it looked to be the genuine article. He suppressed a guilty little snigger. Somehow, he couldn't believe the man would be alright with the knowledge that it was used for _this_.

As the fake Captain tilted his head to the side as though considering the offer, one of the others gave the caller a mild slap on the back of the head. "We already know what he wants, and I don't think anyone's going to fight him for it."

"Oh, right," the other man agreed, looking a bit sheepish.

Tony's curiosity peaked. It would be reasonable for the gang leader to have first rights, but this sounded like he had claimed something else. What was it?

He tried to guess, but there were no clues to be had from the man casually leaning against the wall opposite him with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest. While Tony quite enjoyed the view, the action was elsewhere, so he slowly shifted his focus to the gaming crowd.

They were a motley bunch. One was tall and rather thin, another more heavy-set, two wore long hair, the others short, there were beards as well as shaved faces, and ages seemed to range from maybe twenty-five to somewhere beyond forty. Their only common trait seemed to be that all of them were sporting heaps of muscles. Tony wondered where in the world she might have found them.

The first man folded, lazily sitting back to watch the rest of them battle it out. "While we're waiting to get started," he remarked, "any volunteers for cleaning duty?"

"Fold!" the youngest guy immediately cried, throwing down his hand.

There was some laughter as the young man made his eager way over to Tony. Cleaning duty? What exactly was that about? It was obviously aimed at him, but...

When the fake Captain America came over to release him from the radiator and walk him toward a door in the back that screamed bathroom, Tony just knew he wasn't going to like this.

Well.

He wasn't entirely wrong. It was embarrassing as hell, especially the part where all the water had to come back out. But... The way 'Captain America' was staring at him from his position at the door throughout the process sent a frisson of something down his back that certainly wasn't revulsion or shame. The mask did not allow Tony to see the man's eyes, but the intensity of the man's focus on him easily came across regardless.

The intensity was too much for Tony and prompted him to yet again open his wayward mouth. "Some people get turned on by the weirdest shit," he commented oh so blithely, just so suppressing a snigger at his own awful pun.

Not a single muscle twitched on the Captain's fake face. Of course not. It was a mask. Tony resisted the urge to shake his head at his own thoughts.

The young guy, however, did react. He grabbed Tony by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off the porcelain throne. Tony stumbled a bit as he was dragged over to crouch in front of the Captain. "I'm pretty sure you're one of those people," the young man told Tony. "Now be a good dog and lick your owner's boots, will ya?"

_Your owner._

Heat flushed Tony's cheeks, heading down to color his chest and raise goose bumps on his arms. He felt his cock twitch.

Then the rest of the sentence registered.

"Lick his boots?!" he exclaimed. "After he just stomped through a forest full of squirrel shit and owl vomit? I don't think so!"

The young guy behind him chuckled. "He's not wrong," he commented. "Maybe he should lick your feet instead?"

'Captain America' calmly stepped out of his shoes and socks.

Jeez, where did she _find_ this guy? Even his feet looked a lot like Steve's! Of course, that might just be Tony's libido talking. He hadn't ever actually been that close to the real Steve's toes.

He cocked his head.

He wasn't into feet, per se, but... these did look kind of good. And the idea of cowering on the cold tiles, naked, and licking the feet of an otherwise fully dressed Captain America? A tiny moan escaped Tony at the image that burst into glorious, fiery life behind his closed eyelids. The image appealed. Very, very much.

Not giving himself time to think, he brushed aside the part of him that claimed that Tony Stark never fully submitted without snarking, that there was no dom who didn't suffer his sharp tongue if he was too dumb to put in a gag in the first place, and even then Tony would always find ways to express his cheeky, bratty indomitable spirit. This was part of how Tony defined himself, part of how he played, how he'd always played.

But right now, caught in his oldest fantasy, kneeling in front of _Captain America_ , he felt ready to move on.

Tony bowed his head and started licking the man's feet.

"Oh!" The startled sound told him that for once, the leader of the pack had been too surprised to whisper. Tony felt a disproportionate sense of accomplishment. He hadn't done much, and yet... Tony tackled the toes in front of him with gusto.

After a moment, it became apparent that his access was too limited while the Captain - _his owner_ \- was standing on those feet. Tony lifted his head, casting about for a solution. "Please," he said, remembering to be a _good boy_ , "will you sit down on the edge of the tub? I could do so much better then." He looked up with what he hoped was his best _good boy_ face.

The impassive mask stared down on him. Then, without a word, the Captain marched over to the tub and elegantly sank down. Tony noticed that he placed himself at an angle, leaning back against the wall. He huffed out an insulted breath. Like he might want to shove the Captain off the edge.

Couldn't they see he had other things on his mind?

Maybe Tony would have conceded that they had a point being cautious at his suddenly meek attitude when he'd been biting people and protesting his treatment only minutes ago. But right now, all he could think about was wrapping his lips around those toes. The intensity of that picture wouldn't leave him. Him, licking Captain America's feet, pulling one wonderful, slender toe into his mouth and sucking on it like he would on...

_"Ah."_ This time, the Captain had remembered to whisper. It didn't detract  much  from the beautiful,  needy tone Tony  had elicited by following action to thought. 

T he Captain's toes weren't sweaty, nor even fuzzy from the socks he'd been wearing in those boots.  O f course  not, since Tony had the best tailors supplying the  Avengers  and  _this man was wearing Steve's actual uniform,_ down to the smallclothes. Tony slowly lapped at the junction between the first and second toe  as he held the  large  foot propped up on  his own knees. A hand came down to clutch at his hair, not guiding, just holding on as though the man needed something to steady him. 

_"Fucking aces,"_ the  Captain whispered reverently and Tony preened like the prize poodle at a dog show.  He licked at the man's feet with abandon, sucking here, teasing with his tongue there, and it was all too much like licking something else. Tony got hard from his own efforts,  writhing on the floor as he pleasured the man's toes. 

This wasn't something he had ever done before, wasn't even something he'd pictured himself doing, and yet right now it felt like the perfect thing to do.  Tony didn't question it. He just let himself enjoy the moment,  getting increasingly caught up in his service to Captain America. 

Some air escaped him  with a deeply unpleasant sound, ruining the moment. He pulled back, blushing fiercely. 

"Well, I think you're done for now," the young guy commented. Tony had completely forgotten about him. With the Captain's tacit permission, the guy prodded Tony back to the toilet, followed by the shower to rinse off the forest dirt and his own, and under the watchful, masked eyes of the Captain, Tony obeyed.

The young guy climbed into the shower with him, washing Tony's hair and soaping his body, paying special attention to his crotch and his nipples as he did. Tony knew the Captain was watching closely while this other guy liberally groped Tony in the shower. 

Goosebumps decorated Tony's arms and legs when he stepped back out, and his prick was achingly hard. Tony told himself the shivering was because the water here didn't run as hot as he was used to and the bathroom was clammy. He welcomed the heat of the big living room that held the rest of the gang. The radiator had been cold earlier, but the sheer amount of bodies inside the small space was enough to heat up the room quite nicely. For such a large group of men, the scent of the air was surprisingly mild, though. Tony hid a smile. Looked like she was taking all of it seriously, down to his hygiene and safety stipulations.

If anyone could demand clean bills of health and insure the abstinence from unsafe sexual practices for a group of eight people over a course of several months to stage the perfect scene, it was her. 

"You got a winner yet?" the young guy asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like some overgrown puppy.

"One," an apparent bodybuilder answered, leaning back in obvious satisfaction, "but there should be more than one if we want to do this right, so you need to entertain our guest for a little longer."

Tony shivered at the images those words conjured up, his goosebumps coming right back.

"He could do that," another man butted in while frowning at his cards, "but why don't we just have him service the winner until everyone is ready?"

Tony's mouth fell open, emitting a tiny gasp. His lower lip trembled.

"He likes the idea," the young man commented, grinning. Before Tony could get his bearings, the leader's broad hands were back in his hair and on his right shoulder, pushing him down to his knees. It seemed the collar he was once again wearing, albeit without the leash, was more for decorative purposes than actual use. The pull on his hair sent him crawling across the floor following the Captain toward the bodybuilder who appeared to have won the first hand. The man grinned down at him predatorily and slowly opened his fly.

Tony's head was unceremoniously pushed down into the man's crotch, then the broad hand finally let go of his hair. Immediately, the other man took over, using one hand to hold Tony's head up so he could look him in the eyes while the other hand guided a fat, pierced cock toward his mouth. "Open up," the man said softly.

Tony had heard that steroids messed with a man's ability to perform. If that was true, this guy's muscles were all home-grown. The cock that invaded Tony's mouth firmed rapidly and soon was hard enough to drill holes through a titanium alloy. Tony's mouth watered and he began to suck and swallow around the hot, hard length.

The man gave an appreciative groan and the hand in Tony's hair went from pulling to petting.

Tony lost focus. He knew there was still a game going on around the table that concerned him, but right this moment, the immediacy of the thick cock in his mouth eclipsed all other concerns. The wet slide of it against his tongue, the slight drag against his dry upper lip, the strain of keeping his teeth covered, the taste, oh oh the thick masculine taste, and the man's hand in his hair, not gripping tight, no not now, not yet, but there was the threat, the promise that he could and he would if Tony misbehaved, if he slacked in his task...

Tony gave a pained howl as the hand suddenly did firm in his hair and forcefully pulled him away from his task. "Enough," the man barked sharply at him. Standing up, he pulled Tony to his feet by the hair. Tony tried to follow where he was led as best he could, but it still hurt something awful. He panted in exertion. Suddenly, he was picked up and lifted in the air. He yelped, then blushed at the sound he'd made.

It was 'Captain America' again. The man's huge pranks had wrapped around Tony's hips to set him on his hands and knees on a cute little upholstered footstool. The men made a lot of noise as they abandoned the larger table in favor of coming over to once more form a circle around Tony and look down at him together. He shivered.

Then he shivered some more when a finger coated in cool, slick lube touched his hole. "Ah..."

The Captain's hand stroked down his back, delivering a light smack on his right butt cheek before the man stepped around to his front while some other man continued toying with Tony's back door. A large hand forced Tony's chin up and despite the mask, he felt pinned down by the gaze Captain America was sending him.

_"Stark,"_ the man hissed at him. Tony suddenly understood why he wouldn't talk at a normal volume, obviously his real voice would clash with the persona. Of course, his words did that anyway.  _"Just so we are clear: every one of these men will fuck you, use your pretty mouth, abuse your ass, make you wank them, come inside you, come all over you, degrade you, hurt you, use you like the cheap little whore that you are."_

Tony gasped.

_"There is nothing you can do,"_ the man continued,  _"you won't escape us, you cannot dissuade us, and you most emphatically don't have a say in anything that goes on. You may beg us to stop, but we won't listen. You may scream for help, but no-one will hear you. You are entirely at our mercy, Stark."_

Dark chuckles accompanied his words and Tony shivered. He involuntarily widened his stance  on his awkward perch,  rendering him even more vulnerable to the probing finger. He had to reply to this, and he knew exactly what he wanted to say. "I regularly fight side-by-side with the Hulk," he huffed out. "If Big Green doesn't scare me, why do you think you would?"

Then a twist of the finger inside him brushed up against his prostate and he groaned.

Grim satisfaction played around the corners of the fake Captain's mouth. _"It's your funeral,"_ he said  with dark amusement. Then he released Tony's chin and nodded at the man behind Tony. 

The lubed finger  pushed all the way in and Tony saw stars. 

* * *

Really, he should have seen it coming, pun fucking intended.

He and Pepper had broken up months ago and he hadn't been interested in resuming his playboy lifestyle, so it had been some time since someone else, anyone else, had touched him.

This wasn't just some stranger providing a little sexual touch, though. This was his oldest, strongest fantasy brought to life by the cunning assistance of one Natasha Romanoff.

This was a string of sadistic men waiting to fuck him while _Captain America_ looked on, planning to do even more unspeakable things to him, the helpless victim.

Was it any wonder Tony didn't even last through the first fuck?

“Nnguh,” Tony gasped in shock and relief as he felt his untouched cock spurting his seed all over the upholstery. The men fucking him froze for a moment, then went on as though nothing had happened. Tony shuddered through his orgasm, trying not to choke on the cock in his mouth as he lost any semblance of concentration.

From the corner of his eye, he saw movement. He dragged his gaze as far over to the right as the rigid grip on his head would allow and squinted past the hands and the cock pounding into him to look at Captain America. Through watering eyes, he could just so make out the slow, disappointed shake of the man's head.

Tony shuddered, involuntarily shedding more cum with the motion. Captain America was disappointed with him.

_Well, that's nothing new,_ a nasty internal voice that sounded too much like his father stated with audible disgust.  _You're a disappointment. You always knew you could never live up to Captain America's example. He was and is a far greater man than you could ever hope to be._

Tony's defenses were down. He was living his fantasy, riding a high none of his previous sexual encounters, the best designer drugs and even flying his Iron Man suit could ever have prepared him for.

The higher the flight, the lower the fall.

For the longest second of his life,  Tony teetered on the edge of the most epic crash of his life. Then he rallied. 

_No,_ he thought back at his father's voice, then more forcefully:  _No! I will not let you ruin this for me. I DESERVE this! Natasha arranged it for me, because she is a good friend, because I have friends now, good friends, people who appreciate me and respect me and FUCK YOU HOWARD for trying to taint this even from beyond the grave! I'm a good person, a great person even, I'm a hero and a friend and a good sub -_ “Good boy,” a voice whispered from his  more recent  memories _– and I will Not. You hear me? I will NOT let you ruin this for me!_

Furiously, he returned to his task of giving the cock in his mouth the Best. Blowjob. Ever.

Because  that was who he had chosen to be, and he would not let his father's disapproval ruin  his best experience ever. Natasha would not have approved a Captain America who turned this fantasy to shit for Tony. Ergo, Captain America was not truly disappointed in Tony. Because that would ruin it. So he wasn't. 

Of course, once the man behind him withdrew with a satisfied grunt and Tony had swallowed the front guy's load, Tony still felt some trepidation as the Captain approached him. But he told his worries to shut the fuck up and calmly listened to what the man had to say. 

“ _Well, well, well. Stark,”_ was what the man said, again shaking his head in apparent disappointment. _“Coming without permission, whatever are we going to do with you? What a naughty little bitch.”_

Sarcasm.  Tony felt relief flood him. 

Yes, the words proclaimed disappointment, but the tone? Even through the hissing, Tony could clearly hear the man's fond amusement. Captain America was not actually disappointed in him. He was merely using this terrific  opportunity to  insinuate that if they decided to  punish Tony further,  he had  only himself to blame \-  as any  resourceful sadist  might. 

Tony barely managed to suppress his exalted smile.

“ _Nothing to say for yourself?”_ the Captain asked. 

“Uh… sorry?” Tony tried and even to himself it sounded as sincere as Fury talking about privacy.

He ended up regretting his cavalier attitude the tiniest bit as the cage closed around him. And a bit more as the Captain attached a weight to the ring. He was more turned on than ever before in his adult life - it was hard to ever beat teenage hormones, but he thought if the night continued like this, he might manage - and yet his cock couldn't fully stretch out and harden. It was maddening!

It was also exciting as hell.

* * *

Tony whimpered when the third man pulled out only to be replaced right away by a fourth.

They had stopped using his mouth for now in favor of hearing him moan and gasp. While one man was fucking him, at least two of the others were constantly occupied with Tony, as well. There was a hand twisting his right nipple and a mouth gnawing on his left. There were claw-like fingernails trailing down his left flank, digging in here and there to pinch, slow and painful. Some evil spirit had thought it a good idea to introduce a nose hook and now every time he twitched and jerked his head, his nose pulsed with angry pain. Some even more sadistic fucker had put a low, wide candle beneath his chest so Tony had to keep himself pushed up on his arms at all times; if he slacked off even once, he'd crash down on the little hot pot of wax topped off by a live flame.

That would be bad. Probably.

Tony was mighty spaced out by now, shuddering with each thrust of the hulking male behind him, and letting a stream of appreciative and pained sounds emerge from his mouth completely unfiltered.

He didn't know who was fucking him, nor did he know who the teeth currently gnawing his left nipple belonged to. Someone had put a blindfold on him a little while ago, and if Tony had been rather loopy before, he was totally out of it now that his sight had been taken. Every other input seemed so much more relevant, sharp and crisp, when eyesight went missing. And the input he was getting was entirely too hot for words.

Low, appreciative murmurs of the men standing and sitting around, watching closely as Tony was fucked again and again.

The rich, decadent scent of cum rising from several places across Tony's own body.

The taste of it on his tongue.

And the dull, throbbing ache punctuated again and again by bright sparks of pleasure as the man pounding into him nailed his prostate with terrifying precision.

Tony moaned and gasped and writhed, totally unselfconsciously alive in the moment. Loving every minute, every second of it. And really, really wishing they would finally let him come.

* * *

Tony blearily turned around to lie on his back on the incredibly soft, furry carpet like the man prodding at him seemed to want. He had been fucked... six times? Seven? and he was aching all over. It seemed that every inch of his body must be covered in teeth marks, scratches and bruises. Oh, and the fiery lines still dully present from the earlier whipping.

He had been spared a huge burn mark on his chest only by a large hand coming out of nowhere to catch him when his arms finally gave in as the last man fucking him came. The accompanying strong push had proved too much for Tony's exhausted body.

Tony was still feeling a bit floaty and unfocused. He couldn't decide if the pain was still good pain or verging on too much, but he also couldn't be bothered to give a rat's ass either way.

A cock bumped up against Tony's right hand and his fingers reflexively curled around it. A hand came to rest on his head as though in blessing. _"Good boy,"_ the Captain whispered. _"Will you be able to take just one more for us?"_

Tony whined, his hand beginning to stroke the cock even as his head got stuck between a shake and a nod.

_"You're such a good boy,"_ the whisper continued,  _"you can do one more for me. I know you can."_

And Tony found himself nodding.

Yes, he would do what Captain America asked of him.

_"There's a good boy,"_ the voice repeated.  _"Can I get a color from you, sweetheart?"_

Colors were important, Tony remembered. He even knew the right one to say. "Green," he said, proud to know the right answer,  but unable to speak at more than a low murmur. 

The Captain heard him anyway.  _"I think you'll want to watch this one,"_ he decided and took the blindfold off Tony.  The cock withdrew from Tony's hand and Tony opened and closed his fist a few times as though unsure what to do with it, now that it was no longer needed. 

He kept his eyes shut at first, but eventually  his innate  curiosity reared its head and his lashes hesitantly fluttered open. 

He briefly took note of the seven partially dressed and fully sated men surrounding them before his attention focused exclusively on Captain America. The man was kneeling between Tony's legs, pants only opened wide enough to allow his generous cock passage.  When he was sure Tony was watching, Captain America leant forward, lifting Tony's left thigh up with one hand and lining himself up with the other. 

Then the tip of his cock breached Tony's hole and took his breath away.

"Fuck," he stated, awed.

It wasn't the size of the cock, though that was impressive. It wasn't the watchers, though their presence certainly helped. It wasn't even the uniform, much less the cheap mask.

No, the thing that crashed into Tony like a lightning bolt in spite of his exhaustion was the realization that even though this guy was fake, he  _trusted_ this Captain America to do right by him. Trusted him to take Tony apart to his basic atoms and know how to put him back together. Trusted him to catch Tony. 

_Bless Natasha._

Then the Captain started moving. Tony's fingers clenched in the fluffy carpet, helping him to push back against each thrust. He was barely holding on, really, too exhausted to do much more than take whatever the Captain decided to do with him. To him.  But still he wanted so much to participate, to make this good for the man who had led this scene, to  _his owner -_ the words still rang in his head like echoes of a gong struck hours ago.  Tony wanted to please his Captain, he wanted - wanted - 

"Aah!" Tony whimpered as this man, as well, found his prostate and  hammered  it. "Please," he finally heard himself  moan. "Please!" 

He didn't even know what he was begging for, only that he needed to.  Luckily for him, his Captain knew. A finger tipped against the cage trapping his straining cock.  _"You want me to take this off?"_

It took a moment for the words' meaning to penetrate through the fog in his mind but then Tony's eyes opened wide. "Yes, yes please, my owner, my Captain, please!"

The mask still hid any and all expressions on the Captain's face, but Tony heard the other men's pleased murmurs.  He had chosen the right words. Encouraged, he found more of them, a veritable flood spilling out past his tired, worn-out lips. "Please, I'll be so good, please take it off, and let me... Please... please let me..."

The Captain went on fucking him, seemingly unimpressed by Tony's begging; though his breathing was definitely gaining a harsh quality that hadn't been there before. Tony wailed. He needed this, needed to be free, to stretch, to come! He was exhausted and overstimulated and there was so much pleasure-pain-pleasure and he didn't think the man would let him and Tony was getting desperate and he wasn't even paying attention any longer to the words falling from his lips and into the void, the void of this man's cruel silence he would let Tony suffer for longer and Tony could take it would take it all for his owner, the Captain, Captain America, this was Captain America fucking him and Tony had so, so long dreamed of this fantasized this and the cock inside him was incredibly hot and oh the friction and there was a tiny bead of sweat making its way down from the man's hair to his neck and Tony wanted to lick it but he could barely lift his head and he was so - so - 

"… need you, more, please... Please let me come... oh god yes fuck deeper - more please... come... want to … Captain... Please let me, please,  _Steve I want to come! -_ "

The cock inside him stilled for a moment and Tony nearly came up from his haze enough to wonder if it was anything he had said. But no. He'd just been begging, all kinds of nonsense spilling out and the Captain hadn't really been paying attention anyway. He was just using Tony like the whore he was, wanted to be, luxuriated in being tonight, just there for these men's entertainment, theirs to use, to fuck, to abuse... The cock started moving again and Tony lost his train of thought, though the pleasant phrase "theirs to use" lingered on  in his mind. 

Then a new sensation entered the scene and Tony was so very startled by it he lost hold of the carpet.

Pulsing. Hot, angry, raw need raging through his suddenly free cock. The ring slipped off his balls and they immediately drew up, clinging closely to his finally liberated erection.

He emitted a drawn-out, painful groan.

It felt so, so great for his cock to finally fill and stretch out, but also very painful. Like a masseur's hand pushing down on cramped shoulders after a four night sciencing marathon.  Relief, mixed with agony. 

Tony thought that described a lot of things that had gone on tonight. And even though it wasn't all that funny, he started laughing at his own thoughts. 

The Captain had started fucking him again, but hesitated at the unexpected laughter.  _"Alright?"_ he asked, puzzled. 

"G-green," Tony managed on another laugh. "Please don't stop, green-green-green, please, plea-he-he-" The rest of whatever mindless thing he'd been about to say drowned in more laughter.

"Laugh flash," someone commented from the vicinity of his left hand. And that thought, too, made him laugh. Laugh harder, that was; he hadn't really stopped.

This was brilliant. This entire scene, it was so utterly wrong and so perfectly right. Tony was exhausted, he  probably looked like a car accident and he had at least four different men's spunk on him and in him, and here was Captain fucking America fucking him like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

So  depraved. And so, so  good.

Tony gasped and shuddered amidst the laughter, his system flooded with too many endorphins and his heart and mind overcome with emotion. His mangled, laughter-filled babbling dwindled off into desperate moans and pleas, he didn't even know what he was pleading for and yet he found himself chanting "Please! Please, please-please-please-please...!"

Suddenly, the Captain was a lot closer than before. Not his cock, that had already been balls-deep; but his torso. The arms came down beside Tony's head, the star on the uniform's chest pressed down on the scar where Tony's arc reactor used to be, and blond hair fell past the mask to brush against Tony's cheeks.

"Oh my god, _Tony_..." a broken voice breathed.

Steve's voice, Tony thought. The idea tore through him like a wildfire, and before he'd even had time to question its plausibility, he was overwhelmed by the utter perfection of the moment. Hot come shot out between their bodies, warming his stomach and soiling the Captain's uniform, _Steve's_ uniform. Steve would probably hate them for this, except he wouldn't because Tony somehow felt Steve knew and wouldn't mind.

...He slowly became aware of the stillness around him.

The Captain was holding himself up on his elbows so as not to crush Tony with his weight, but he was obviously done fucking Tony. He must have come around the same time Tony did. The thought warmed Tony. It felt right.

The men around them had fallen silent, just watching the two men on the carpet catching their breath.

Then, the youngest member of the group got up on silent feet and left the room. He returned a moment later with some wet wipes and a roll of kitchen paper, which he offered to the Captain.

With a muffled laugh, the man took hold of the offering and slowly, carefully disentangled himself from Tony. He lovingly wiped down first Tony, then himself, then immediately came back to cuddle up against Tony. _"This alright?"_ he asked gently as he laid a hand over Tony's shoulders to pull him in against his still uniformed chest.

"Yeah," Tony said, contentedly snuggling into the warmth and safety. The star on the Captain's uniform pressed into his chest once more, but far from being a nuisance, Tony perceived it as a vaguely comforting presence. Something right.

He felt another body slotting into place behind him, latching on. He snuggled into that one a little, as well. The other men all seemed to find places on the carpet surrounding them, pairing off into twos and threes, with no-one left out.

Safe. Warm.

Loving.

Contentedly, Tony closed his eyes and finally gave in to his exhaustion.

* * *

Tony woke to the sound of distant laughter. He lazily blinked open his eyes, taking in the warm sunlight flooding the room, the two haphazardly covered, mostly naked men softly snoring close by, and the blankets that seemed to have magically appeared sometime after he had fallen asleep. One of them was draped over Tony himself, explaining how he hadn't woken when the lovely human furnace he'd been snuggling up to all night had apparently up and left. That fluffy blanket had kept him nice and warm despite the chill morning air streaming in through the open window alongside some lovely rays of sunshine.

He stood up on wobbly legs, suppressing a pained moan as every single joint and muscle in his body complained. Damn, but he wasn't twenty any more. He smiled softly to himself. It was kind of good to know he'd be feeling last night for a few days to come. He brushed his thumb over a particularly vivid bite mark on his left hip.

Happy memories.

He tried to be quiet and let the other men sleep as he made his painfully slow way over to the door from which the laughter and cheerful conversation seemed to originate. Wresting it open, he found himself standing in a large, rustic kitchen filled with five men companionably fixing breakfast. The large guy who'd been the first to fuck him was scrambling eggs at the stove. The young one with the fascination with enemas was cutting up fruits; and the others were lazily setting the table as they gossiped about some mutual acquaintance.

A chorus of "Good mornings" sounded when they noticed Tony's presence.

"Want some clothes?" the man who'd whipped him last night asked and Tony belatedly noticed that everyone but him was dressed in casual clothing. He blushed when he realized that he'd walked into the kitchen buck naked without a thought.

But then, all of them had seen him naked and covered in their spunk. It wasn't like he had any dignity to lose here. So he focused hard on containing his blush and said as casually as if they were discussing the weather: "Yeah, clothes would be good."

The man  with the unexpected art appreciation excused himself out a side door and returned momentarily with some jeans and Tony's favorite Iron Maiden shirt  as well as his usual underwear. Tony wondered if Natasha knew him this well or if maybe Pepper had helped her pack. The blush didn't return at that thought - Pepper had known him long enough and she'd pretty much seen it all. 

Tony was about to pull the shirt over his head when something pulled painfully at the skin of his belly, reminding him sharply that he still had dried spunk all over him. And some spit and a tiny amount of blood. He hastily retreated to the bathroom to scrub himself clean before getting dressed.

When Tony returned to the kitchen, he scanned the room for the Captain, but only found his mask lying on the counter.

He sighed. It seemed that the man was gone, no doubt to preserve the fantasy for Tony. It would be pretty hard to have breakfast with that mask on, after all. Too bad, Tony would have liked to thank him. He smirked to himself. _Like a good boy._

Tony sat down at the mostly ready table. Someone put a cup of hot coffee in front of him and Tony felt his body fully come to life at the scent. "Aah, perfection," he moaned. "Now the only thing missing is Steve's forgiveness and this will be the best weekend ever."

The men seemed startled at his words. "I assume you're talking about Steve Rogers. Why would he need to forgive you?" one of them asked.

Tony gulped down a few mouthfuls of the precious dark liquid before he answered. "I was supposed to meet him this weekend for training, and instead I'm here..."

Chuckles broke out all around the room. At first, Tony thought it was mere sympathy for his predicament, or maybe the humor in how greatly his weekend plans had veered off course. But then, the guy to his left told him: "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much. The good Captain is sure to understand _completely._ " The smile he shot at Tony was anything but reassuring.

Just then, the sound of an engine could be heard approaching the cabin from a distance and the man at the stove turned around to tell Tony: "But you can ask him yourself if you're still worried." He winked at Tony.

Then Steve Rogers entered the kitchen.

Steve was dressed in his usual tight jeans and painted-on T-shirt, topped off with a leather jacket and beautifully wind-blown hair. In one hand, he held a large paper bag from a German bakery, in the other he was balancing a couple liters of milk. His face lit up when he saw Tony. "Good morning!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"Uh." Tony stared at him blankly.

Steve frowned. "Tony? Are you alright?"

Tony shook himself. "Steve?" he asked hesitantly. "What are you doing here?"

Steve lifted the bag. "I got fresh rolls for breakfast."

Sure, Tony thought, that's all it is: Steve doing the bakery run to feed a pack of hungry men who fucked me into nirvana last night. Nothing unusual going on here at all.

Tony stared dumbly at Steve for way longer than anyone would call polite.

It just didn't compute. Last night, there'd been a fake Captain America in this very hut, dominating Tony, humiliating him, and fucking him within an inch of his life. Last night had been dark and hot and everything he'd ever dreamed of, only missing the _real_ Steve to make it perfect.

Now, there was sunlight and gentle warmth and wide smiles and clothes all around, and here was Steve in his full all-American glory, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and bringing fresh rolls for breakfast like some family dad.

The contrast was too much.

The fake Captain had looked alarmingly similar to the real Steve, but the differences between them had never been more obvious to Tony than in this moment. Light and darkness, innocent friendship and hot, burning desire. On the one hand, a teammate who appreciated Tony for his genius and really just wanted to be friends; and on the other, someone who wanted Tony in the most carnal, basic way.

Tony dropped his eyes and suppressed a bitter little smile. Steve had always seemed too good for this world, and he was definitely too good for Tony.

"Tony?" Steve asked again, the smile on his face now replaced by a serious frown. "You have me worried, here. What's going on with you?"

Tony pasted a fake smile on his face. He knew it looked genuine to just about everyone besides Pepper. After all, he had years of practice. "Don't worry, Cap," he said with false good humor. "I'm really fine. Just surprised to see you here."

He thought about the two men still lying naked in the adjacent room. What would Steve think if he stumbled upon them? What had Natasha been _thinking_ , sending Steve here?!

"Uh, why don't you sit down?" He patted the chair next to his invitingly, then tried to look casual as he took another sip of coffee. Nothing to see here, just your teammate having his morning cup of coffee. Don't think about this situation too hard, don't you worry your pretty head about all the men hanging around, the bite marks on your teammate's neck or the odor of sex that's probably still clinging to the next room despite the open window. _Natasha, we are going to have WORDS!_

Steve sat, all the while never taking his eyes off Tony. "No really," the man said, "something is obviously wrong. Are you in any pain?"

Tony choked on his coffee. Several of the men sniggered.

With streaming eyes, Tony tried to convince the coffee to please get out of his nose while Steve looked on with the kind of earnest sympathy and desire to help only Steve Rogers could pull off.

Tony was too busy abusing a series of paper tissues to notice the amusement that briefly glinted in those oh-so innocent baby blues.

"Mike," he heard Steve call out to one of the men, "could you get Tony a glass of water? I think the coffee's disagreeing with him. And Jim, do we have any OJ?"

Moments later, a glass of water appeared in front of Tony which he took gratefully, while Steve sipped happily at his juice.

After a while, Tony's nose calmed down and he felt like he could think straight again. It occurred to him then that while he himself didn't actually know anyone in the room apart from Steve, his teammate had called out to two of the men with casual familiarity.

His jaw dropped.

"Steve...?" he asked, not at all certain what to believe. There was an obvious solution to this riddle, but it was so outlandish Tony refused to properly consider it. "How do you know their names?"

Tony was staring at 'Mike', who was humming as he dished out the scrambled eggs and some bacon, so he once again missed the mischievous smile that flitted across Steve's face as he answered. "Hm? Oh, we've run into each other at the gym a time or two."

Tony nodded, storing away that bit of information. So Steve went to the same gym as two of his 'kidnappers'. Okay. Not conclusive, but still one hell of a coincidence. More to the point, though, Steve didn't seem surprised to see them here at all.

"Steve?" Tony asked again, pursuing another thread that had started unraveling in his mind. "How did you know to come here? Did Natasha put you up to this?" Finally, he turned his head to look at Steve.

Steve beamed at him. "She sure did. Said this is the perfect place for what we have planned. Lots of space and nobody around for miles, so no one's gonna interrupt or be bothered by the sound of fighting or, you know. And just look at the place, isn't it perfect?"

_Training,_ Tony  remembered, _right._

He nodded dumbly.

So did Steve think the other guys were here to help with their training session? Tony racked his brain, but couldn't remember the exact wording of Steve's training offer. Did he actually use the words 'one on one' or did Tony just infer that since none of the other Avengers were coming? Maybe Steve had planned this as a group exercise all along and Natasha had merely taken hold of a golden opportunity.

"Is everyone here a member of your gym?"

Steve shook his head. "No," he said casually, "only Mike, Jim, Takahiro and Brady. Oleg, Hans and Jonathan don't like gyms. Their loss," he added, and there was some good-natured laughter.  It had the feel of a well-worn argument between the two groups, with comfortable, teasing comments  flitting back and forth like balls at a  beer pong match. 

But they all worked out, obviously. Tony looked at the  men  in the light of day and thought those muscles were even more impressive now that he knew some of them didn't pump weights to get them. Which ones, though?

"So who's who?" he asked, quite happy to put the most important question off a little longer. He didn't know what he wanted the answer to be. He didn't know what to think about any of this.

"That one's Mike," Steve started, pointing at the larger man with the frying pan. Mike gave a little wave. "Over there are Takahiro and Jim," he introduced the next two men, "and this one's Hans." The guy who knew his way around a whip as well as around an art gallery smirked at Tony. "And finally, Brady's the over-eager puppy over there."

"Oh shut up, Captain." The young guy smiled sheepishly at Tony, not quite meeting his eyes. Tony thought the tips of his ears looked a bit red.

Tony looked around, remembering that two of their number were still asleep in the next room. Steve had mentioned two more names, so he was obviously aware they were there.

Tony still hoped Steve didn't get it in his head to go looking for them.

Just then, Steve finally lost the internal battle Tony hadn't been aware he was waging. A wide grin spread over his face and refused to leave. "Well, and the two pervs still sleeping off last night's exertions in the other room are Jonathan and Oleg."

What.

What even.

"...Steve?" Tony asked, sounding unnaturally calm to his own ears. "Would you repeat that, please?"

With a sheepish look on his face, Steve grabbed the mask off the counter. "I, uh, I haven't been entirely honest with you," he said, holding the mask loosely in front of his face. _"But Natasha thought you would_ _n't have been able to_ _relax and enjoy_ _if we gave you the real Captain America."_

Tony gaped. There was no mistaking that whisper.

The mask lowered a fraction, allowing Steve's deceptively innocent baby blues to peek over the top. "Please don't be mad?"

Steve.

It had been Steve all along.

Tony shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around this new piece of intel. It didn't really fit with what he knew of Steve - or _thought_ he knew -, but the evidence was all there. And hadn't he thought last night that the man's voice sounded just like Steve's?

And he had felt so very safe and protected in the Captain's arms.

Suddenly, heat rushed outward from Tony's heart, flushing his cheeks and making his entire torso burn with vivid embarrassment. He had crawled and begged and been fucked in front of Steve!

And  _by_ Steve. 

As Tony saw it, he had two choices right now. Half of him wanted to bash Steve's brains in for deceiving him like that. The other half wanted to throw itself at Steve and demand he fuck him again right here on the kitchen table.

Luckily, Tony's conscious mind wasn't currently in charge of decision making. Before Tony could make up his mind one way or the other, he found himself laughing. The sound erupted from him like a geyser from the earth, the natural consequence of so much pent-up heat simmering underneath the surface.

"Steve Rogers, you are the _worst_ troll in the history of mankind!"

* * *

Tony took a while to calm down from his most recent bout of unstoppable laughter, but once he did, breakfast was served and everyone dug in. The conversation was kept light, dealing with trivial things like some new people at the gym, Steve's obsession with the Dodgers, and even the weather.

"It's a beautiful day," Steve observed. "Maybe we should move things outside today."

Tony froze mid-chew. "What things?" he asked carefully.

Steve turned a look on Tony that he couldn't quite place. "Well, we do need to do that promised training," he said, licking his lips. "But I don't believe I'll be showing all those moves to the rest of the team." _That's_ what Tony saw as he watched Steve speak. He had the eyes of a predator, burning with a desire to hunt, bring down and devour.

He shivered. Never before in his life had he so much wanted to be prey.

Breakfast forgotten, he slid off his chair to kneel beside Steve's, staring up at him with desire burning in his eyes.

"When do we start?"


End file.
